


Petunias and Black Lilies

by Beanmaster_Pika



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Friendship is Magic, Gen, aria likes dangerous things, xanxus is a very dangerous thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 13:46:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11403654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beanmaster_Pika/pseuds/Beanmaster_Pika
Summary: Being the Donna of a largely matriarchal famiglia, Aria sometimes forgets that the rest of the world sees her as just that—a woman. But if they refuse to recognize her ability, she’ll help produce something they will recognize. (In a parallel universe, Xanxus makes the Vongola stronger without becoming the tenth boss or being frozen in ice first, mostly because of a certain someone’s meddling.)





	Petunias and Black Lilies

The first time she meets him, she is twelve; the Giglio Nero is officially under the control of a steward until she comes of age (officially, mind—she’s feeling out her capacity in this world, her steward encouraging her here, cutting her off there, and providing her with endless records of mafia history to draw wisdom from), and he is the ten-year-old adopted feral of Don Vongola. The adults look down on him. The children are divided, some siding with their parents, others more cautious. Aria is of the latter.

She knows, when she meets him, that he is dangerous. Flames thrum and roar within him, untamed and wild, and his eyes are angry, proud, untrusting.

She immediately decides she loves him. She’s always been fascinated and enamoured by dangerous things: guns, knives, the men and women who will one day work beneath her; Xanxus is slightly different in that he is not hers, but not by much. She knows that when they grow up, he will either be a great asset or a terrifying enemy.

Therefore, Aria decides to get to know him and love him as a person. She prefers her lovely dangerous things as allies, thank you very much. Fortunately, Don Vongola makes things very simple for her.

“Hello, Aria,” he says kindly, kneeling down to speak with her at eye level. Being the holder of the Vongola Ring, he knows with unerring certainty that she will one day ascend to the head of the Giglio Nero and should be treated with caution. That does not, however, mean that he can’t try for an alliance. “This is Xanxus, my son.” The feral dodges the hand that moves to ruffle his hair, vestiges of a snarl at his lips. Oh, getting to know him will be _so_ fun, Aria can already tell.

“Nice to meet you,” she says with a genuine smile, holding out a hand to shake. He eyes her suspiciously, but grudgingly takes the hand after a subtle nudge from his father.

Actually touching him, she can feel the strength of his Flames. They’re even more powerful than she thought, stronger than some grown men, and she doesn’t doubt that he’s strong enough for the Vongola ring. It really is a pity that his blood will disallow it. Nevertheless, he’ll definitely grow to hold a position of high power in the Vongola, bad blood or no, and if that doesn’t work out for him, maybe she’ll be able to entice him into the Giglio Nero. Goodness knows they need all the one person armies they can get. So she stands, regal as a queen despite her puerile appearance, and meets his eyes with dignity. There is something akin to recognition flickering through them at the treatment, and he in return gives her grudging respect, giving her hand a firm shake before releasing it. 

“Nice to meet you.”

Don Vongola looks positively delighted by this development, probably because Xanxus doesn’t look like he wants to kill Aria anymore. “Well then! I suppose I’ll just leave you kids to it, then,” he beams. “An old man knows where he’s not wanted. Xanxus, accompany her, would you?” And before his son can even formulate a response, he sweeps off to speak with Don Cavallone, pleased as the cat that got the cream.

“We’re a bit young for matchmaking,” Aria comments when he’s gone, drilling straight to the heart of the matter. Xanxus stares at her, alarmed and dumbfounded.

“Matchmaking?” he blurts out. His innocence concerning politics is cute, in Aria’s opinion.

“Matchmaking,” she affirms seriously. But then she smiles, and bounces on her toes. “But never mind that. Like I said, we’re too young. What do you want to play?”

Xanxus looks like a deer in headlights. It really is adorable. “I… Whatever,” he mumbles, scuffing the ground with his shoes. Okay, so clearly not a team player. Maybe something of an introvert. Or, more probably, he’s trying to meld into his new higher station and has no idea. Tutors don’t teach this, Aria knows, and it’s a crying shame no one’s seen fit to take the initiative to help him out. Enrico, she knows, is busy building up a scathing rivalry, partly to toughen up the new kid for the famiglia, partly to protect his claim as heir; Massimo is bookish and probably hasn’t interacted with him much at all; and Federico, well, he’s at that time in his teenage years where he can’t be seen going around with a kid brother or it’ll be uncool. Maybe he’s a little bit sulky about having his spot as the youngest taken, too, but he’s a good egg, if a bit mischievous, so Aria thinks that they’ll be fine on that front. But for now, Xanxus is growing more awkward and reclusive by the second, so she needs to do something about it.

“Alright,” she says briskly, mind racing to what kind of games might be good. He’s a street kid, so he won’t mind any rough and tumble, but he also has to think of his standing in their society. He’s far behind the others due to his origins in the slums, so something a little more refined might be in order. Something to challenge him, too, with tactics and strategies and no small bit of finesse, yet still fun.

Oh, yes. She has the perfect game.

“Do you want to steal a cake?” she grins. He stares back, shocked once again. But. Well.

“You’re on,” he declares.

* * *

Aria, Xanxus is quickly realizing, is not an average girl. Oh, sure, she’s pretty enough and she giggles and titters, and she wears frilly dresses and nice shoes, but she’s got a life and mischief to her that he hasn’t seen in any of the vapid girls and young ladies he’s met while standing at the side of his father. Actually, she kind of reminds him of his stepmother, eyes going calculating as they focus on their target, mapping out ways to go about accomplishing the mission.

But that’s where she’s different, mainly. Forget niceties and politicking and underhanded social engineering, she’s ready for a fight.

Xanxus can see it. Quite clearly, in fact, and he’s surprised no one has called her out on it, not when the girls here are supposed to be pretty and giggle and wear nice, unsoiled clothes. Her hands are clenching and unclenching, her stance is loose and her muscles tensed, ready for action. There’s a fire in her eyes that Xanxus sees reflected when he stares into mirrors, but it’s different from his. Purer, somehow, he can tell; and bright and warm where his fire is darker. More angry. He doesn’t doubt that he’d win if they fought–she may be taller than him, but he can tell he’s stronger. And that’s the funny thing; she sees this, his angry fire and strength, and doesn’t shy away or hold him at arm’s length. Instead, she reaches out. Xanxus can count on his hands the number of people here who do that, and two don’t count because they’re his parents now. It’s interesting, to say the least, so he’s going to roll with it.

“That one,” he says, pointing at the large créme-colored one that Leonardo Apine is eyeing. It’s one of the biggest at the party. Aria’s lips quirk into a grin.

“Bigger _is_ better, in this case,” she says approvingly, “but it’s also harder. Think we can do it?”

“Try me,” he growls, and he’s on the streets again, hungry, about to snatch something. He’d never gone for anything big, a roll or an apple from a negligent vendor, but no one’s paying attention here because apparently a lot of rich people are either insipid or trusting. Must be all the security guards. And besides, there aren’t any consequences here, maybe a cuff on the ear and a word of reprimand, but nothing else. No beatings. His father doesn’t like violence and Carlotta much prefers making people feel guilty, so what has he got to lose? “We’re going to have to deal with Leonardo first. He’s the only one who’s really going to focus on it. Then when my father makes his speech, we’ll get it.”

“It’s on the other side of the pavilion,” Aria recognizes, nodding, but then prods him to think harder. “But that’s a basic plan. What if something goes wrong?”

“Then we’ll deal with it,” he scowls. Her face falls, and for some reason, he feels like he’s failed. A trial, or a test, with the reward being the acceptance he’s been striving to get here, so he tries again. “If Leonardo doesn’t look away, one of us can throw pebbles at him from the bushes, and the other can go get it. He’s standing near it, so anyone else who would notice will be more focused on him because he’s a wimp and screams like a little baby.”

“And if someone accuses you of hurting him?” Aria counters bluntly. “They don’t really trust you yet, and I heard you broke his nose last week.”

Xanxus doesn’t miss a beat with the answer. “Well, that couldn’t be right. I was playing with you the whole time.”

Aria grins then, excited and approving, and he knows he’s passed. They rock-paper-scissors for who does what and then split up, Xanxus circling around into the orchard and Aria slipping into the crowd. Leonardo Apine goes ever closer to the cake, and Xanxus winds up his throwing arm, and then everything goes to hell.

“May I have your attention!” his father shouts. “Thank you all for attending!” There is a short bit of polite applause. “As you all know, my youngest son recently came to live here–not Federico, I assure you. He’s still off at boarding school, don’t worry.” Polite laughter. “No, this is different. When we found him, we were astounded.” Xanxus is cursing under his breath now, hunting down Aria in the crowd. She’s biting her lip, worried, and they have no way to communicate so he has to improvise. Taking careful aim, he tosses one of his pebbles. It hits her leg, grabbing her attention. He throws another one, and it skitters against the pavement, giving her his location. She looks over, and he meets her eyes, tense. “He has the Flame of Wrath that was seen only before in Vongola Secondo, and that was how we knew. He’s very young, but we know he’ll be powerful, so please welcome him! Xanxus, would you come up here?”

Aria deliberates for hardly half a second before mouthing ‘go.’

He feels like he’s failed again, but this time… this time, he’s failed himself.

* * *

Aria meets back up with Xanxus after Don Vongola finishes introducing his new son. It’s a pity that they couldn’t nab the cake, but that’s alright. They’re only children. They can learn from this, and grow, and besides, Aria already has a contingency plan prepared, though Xanxus doesn’t know it. Plus, no one’s died. This is a children’s game, after all. It’s alright.

Xanxus doesn’t seem to think so, though. He looks angry and frustrated, teeth gritted and fists clenched as he walks over, and now Aria’s worried because again, it’s a game.

(Granted, so is Monopoly, but that’s another story she really doesn’t want to get into right now.)

“What’s wrong?” she asks immediately, catching his hands in hers and sending pulses of her Flames through them. She’s nowhere near the effectiveness of a Rain, but the atmosphere is languid and relaxed, and she’s keeping herself calm, so maybe the Sky’s harmony will work. But his Flames fight _back_ , they don’t want to be tamed, and Aria is forced along for the ride and finds herself facing a tidal wave of self-loathing. Um. Wow.

“We didn’t get it,” he hisses, still furious, and now Aria knows it’s at himself. “I didn’t factor in the old man. And now we’ve lost our chance.” He looks on the very verge of berating himself, too; Aria recognizes the signs from one anxious Sun in her famiglia, and this is all wrong, so her hands move from his hands to his face and slap his cheeks lightly.

“Hey,” she says, slightly reprimanding, fixing him with a stern glare. “It’s okay. This isn’t a raid on an enemy family, and we aren’t grown-ups. It’s okay to mess up. This is a game, you know? A game.” He doesn’t look at all assured, but he _does_ look very confused, and he opens his mouth again to speak but she squishes his cheeks and cuts him off. “Besides, this is a… a whatchamacallit… a learning experience. It’s harder for us to move around because we’re important, right? And there are people who know we are. We’re constricted because of our place in society.” A different kind of constriction than his previous place, she doesn’t say, but it looks like it’s dawning on him and he’s listening now, and putting together the puzzle. She’s trying to teach him, he knows now, she can see it in the way his eyes are no longer defensive, but still slightly hostile, and curious. Good, so he’s a quick study. This will make assimilating him into society much faster.

“You’re like Carlotta,” he notes, and she’s caught off guard partially because she wasn’t expecting him to say anything, partially because it takes her a beat to recognize that Carlotta is the name of Don Vongola’s wife. So Xanxus doesn’t call her mother, but also doesn’t call her an ‘old lady.’ Interesting. “You’re making me fit in. In a real sneaky, underhanded way.”

“I guess,” Aria allows. He’s not exactly wrong. “So what are you going to do about it?”

Xanxus stares at her for a moment before saying, “The old man is always talking about how it’s important to make allies.”

And just like that, they’re friends.

* * *

They both get terrible stomachaches for devouring all of the cake after that, but Aria pesters her steward to allow her to visit the Vongola more often. Xanxus studies hard and trains harder, scowling the whole way as he pushes for becoming the ninth’s successor. He learns how to shoot a gun before she does (she never quite forgives him for that and hits the training ranges as often as she can once she’s able, but she just can’t seem to surpass him. He’s got a skill with the gun that she can’t hope to match, but she can damn well be better than a great many others) and earns his stripes after protecting the ninth from a drive-by shooting. Aria’s steward is horrified by how disappointed she is that she wasn’t there, but there’s not much he can do about it except repeatedly tell her to look after her health and welfare once she becomes the boss. It happens on her seventeenth birthday, and she and Xanxus drink like fishes in celebration. The hangovers are killer, but Aria thinks it’s worth it, because once Xanxus has been drunk under the table he apparently turns into a giggly drunk, and that’s something that she’ll treasure forever, especially since she knows that it’s not likely to happen again.

There is one thing that worries her, though.

“I’ll catch up with you soon,” he’d murmured when he was still a brooding drunk, slurring slightly. “Just you wait. I’ll be the tenth boss, and I’ll make Vongola a hundred times better than it’s ever been–and a thousand times better than the Giglio Nero.”

She knows it won’t happen. She knows it’s physically impossible for him to inherit the Ring. But that night in the bar, she’d felt sentimental, and instead of chuckling and ribbing him like she does whenever else they breach the subject of his legitimacy as heir, she leaned over, ruffled his hair, and smiled. “I’ll take you up on that challenge.” And that was that.

* * *

“No,” Aria says again, warding off Leonardo Apine’s advances, “I really can’t.”

“Just one drink,” he insists, smiling gleefully at her obvious discomfort. “After all, you’re a boss, aren’t you? It should be fine. Just a little drink between a couple of mafiosi, it’ll be fine.” He does so enjoy mocking her.

She bites back a sigh and stamps down on the urge to blow her hair out of her eyes where some of it has fallen out of her chignon. “No, I really can’t. I have a prior arrangement,” she explains.

“Well, surely they can come, too!” he crows, the delight in his eyes taking on a fever pitch, believing himself to be calling her bluff. Fool. She almost pities him.

“Is that so?” a voice rumbles, and the prior arrangement makes himself known as muscle and anger and fire.

Leonardo pales, immediately backtracking in his words as he attempts to scramble away. “X-Xanxus!” he sputters, glancing back and forth between the other and Aria and connecting the dots. Once he’s done that, he finds his options depressingly bleak. “S-So sorry! Didn’t know she was yours.” Shaking, he bows his head slightly and bids goodbye before getting the hell out of there.

“Mine?” Xanxus echoes when he’s gone, quirking an eyebrow.

“Yours,” Aria shrugs. “He assumes.” She snorts. “It’s like he can’t believe that I’m a genuine boss with independent thought and ability.” They share a grim chuckle at that, knowing that it’s exactly what the moron thinks. They’re traditional mafia, after all, and women… Well, women don’t have much place here except in the home. The Giglio Nero, though ancient, are small and unassuming, most of the donnas having husbands to parade to the outer world as the boss, and few realize exactly how much they do, and they like to keep it that way, but Aria, well. Aria doesn’t. Neither did her mother, for that matter, but then, her mother had never ordered any raids. In that, Aria’s different.

For now, though, she will put the cynical musing aside; there’s a bar to visit and a friend to catch up with, and she’s got the funniest story about Gamma to share with him and maybe some earth shattering news to deliver if they get drunk enough. They leave with no haste, but little leisure, and catch a cab to take them to the bar. The driver takes them for a couple. Aria doesn’t blame him. Xanxus is quick to correct him with a complementary angry growl, which is always amusing to no end, but it’s… subdued, a little bit. Less bite, more bark, and considering the fact that Xanxus is almost all bite, that’s worrying.

She doesn’t mention it. She has the worst feeling the reason is going to come out tonight and she’s milking the peace for all it’s worth.

During the drive, she takes off her heels and begins massaging her aching feet with a hint of Sky Flames, heaving a relieved sigh as she does so. Xanxus raises an eyebrow.

“Thought women don’t suffer in heels,” he notes.

“You clearly need to speak with Zia Carlotta more,” she snorts. “She won’t be as obvious about it as I am, but _damn_ these things are like death traps.”

“Can’t imagine walking in them.”

“Yeah? Try _fighting_ in them.”

They carry on like that, arguing and teasing, and Aria is struck by the thought that she’s really grateful for nights like these where she can treat Xanxus like she treats her men instead of the heir to another famiglia; his shoulders are less tense, and he looks like he might actually be enjoying himself somewhat, just. Talking. And laughing. With someone near to his own age, someone he can see as equal without compromising his strict, fanatical belief in his rights as Don Vongola’s heir, an actual _friend_ of sorts whom he can relax around.

(She’s heard rumors about that young swordsman, naturally. Of course she has. But she’s known Xanxus since he joined the Vongola, and he’s only known him for a month, tops, and the difference should be obvious.)

The fact that she’s feeling this nostalgia and sentimentality now is even more worrying. It’s almost as if she’s wallowing in something that will never happen again.

They reach the bar without incident and immediately head to the counter. Xanxus is a regular, it seems, and drops her a recommendation before ordering his own drink. He’s got better taste in alcohol than she does, so she follows the recommendation and charms the barkeeper with a smile.

“It’s really freaky how you do that,” Xanxus mutters, sipping his drink. Aria laughs a little, her lips on the rim of her cup but not drinking yet.

“A woman has to use what she can in a world ruled by men,” she chides. He grunts an approximation of an agreement, and they chat for a while. No horrible truths are revealed, he laughs at the Gamma story, and they depart without incident. It’s enough to make an already paranoid girl nervous.

Her worry, as it turns out, is not unwarranted. Xanxus has decided on walking back, and she follows. He drops the bomb then.

“I’m not the Ninth’s real son.”

His voice is steady, but Aria can hear waves of anger within it, cascading and roaring with what she’s sure are betrayal and disbelief. She’s also having a spot of trouble on the disbelief front–she’d never expected that he’d just… tell her this. Xanxus is a proud man, as he should be, given that he was raised Vongola, and this admission of horrid truth is uncharacteristic of him, and tells Aria with startling clarity exactly how much trust he places in her. She purses her lips in a thin line and stares at his back. He turns, then, to look at her, and takes in the calmness of her demeanor despite the fact that the rational response would be at least some level of shock, and then he states flatly, “You knew.”

“You don’t seem surprised by that,” she responds, tone carefully neutral. The fury in his eyes is contained for now, and she’s earned some degree of tolerance as his childhood friend, but she knows she must tread carefully–no one has ever _tamed_ the feral; he’s merely gotten trickier, wiser to their ways and exercising more self control. That’s what’s making him more dangerous now; he doesn’t just have his Wrath, he’s got brains to go with it and can’t be dealt with so easily by making confrontations a battle of wits. He barks out a short, humorless laugh. Almost miserable, she’d say, if she didn’t know him better.

“Thought you might,” he says. “You’re Giglio Nero. You’ve got all that shaman seer shit going on, right? Must’ve been a no brainer. Did you find it funny? Helping me better my chances at becoming the tenth boss even though you knew it wouldn’t ever happen?” His voice is rising, and with it, his rage, his self control slipping; Aria knows she needs to do something quickly but is cut off. “You knew all along, didn’t you? So why didn’t you tell me? Friends–hah!” He spits at the ground near her feet, and she grits her teeth. If she were Don Vongola, she would be trying to deal with this with placating words and contradicting force. However, she’s not Don Vongola, she’s the Donna Giglio Nero, and Xanxus’s childhood friend, and she knows that the best choice here is to fight fire with fire–placating comes later.

She takes a step forward. “We _are_ friends,” she snaps, matching his anger with her own force. He looks angrier, but no more unreasonable, which is a good sign. Also slightly satisfying, because she practically wrote the book on dealing with Xanxus and is glad that it’s coming in handy here. “And next don or not, you’re still Vongola. Family isn’t totally by blood. And the Vongola are a pillar in our world, and they need to be strong, so _by God_ I was going to help. The Giglio Nero isn’t up for power grabs, not while I’m the boss; and you’re one of the strongest they have.” Xanxus looks like he’s going to try to argue, but since he’s such a mess of superiority and inferiority complexes, she doubts his arguments are going to make any sense and presses forward. “Xanxus, _why_ do you want to lead the Vongola? Answer me that, at least.”

That makes his pause and think. Good. If she can facilitate his rationality, then he’s more likely to actually listen to sound advice. After a moment, he begins, in a hoarse, halting voice, “I want- I want to make it strong. We’re weak, under the old man’s rule. Too friendly with the weaklings and sycophants. Enrico, Massimo, Federico–they’d just continue on like him. We’d fall into ruin. And I don’t want that.” The fire in his eyes is controlled now, and even more fervent; he prizes the Vongola–or his idealized image of it–above all else, and that’s showing here. “But why do _you_ need to know that?”

Aria draws herself up to her full height–still shorter than him, but no less powerful or august in bearing. “Because we’re friends,” she reminds him. “And I need to know your intentions before I can support you here.” Xanxus looks thrown off by this, like he hadn’t expected she’d offer assistance. She can understand why, she supposes; a fight for succession is more or less declaring civil war within the _famiglia_ , but that doesn’t change the fact that garnering outside support could be plenty useful in such a campaign. The Giglio Nero have always had cordial and fairly intimate relations with the Vongola, and as such, her support could carry a heavy weight in the political side of the fight. Most of the Families in the Vongola’s official alliance are in it for the power anyway–the ‘weaklings and sycophants’ Xanxus had spoken of so contemptuously–and they’re more than likely to just go along with whichever heir happens to be strongest or most cunning.

Of course, that’s only _if_ Xanxus refuses to back down, and if Aria knows him, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.

He’s regarding her now, cautious. “I never said anything about needing support.”  
  
“You also never give up on your unhealthy obsessions,” she fires back. “You’re planning something.”  


“And why should I tell you?” he counters. “You could be colluding with the old man, maybe you have been from the start-”

Yeah, she’s gonna cut him off right there, and she does with a sound slap. He looks startled by this, given that she rarely engages in fisticuffs with him or even fights in general, but that’s good. The shock leaves his mind open. “Xanxus,” she says, enunciating clearly, “you are the greatest fool I have ever met. First of all, why on _earth_ would he enlist an eleven-year-old’s help, and second, just _why_ would I go against you just because some old man told me to?”

The gears are turning in his mind now that logic has penetrated the haze of anger and betrayal, so she throws in a reassurance before changing tacks. “I’ll help you however I can if necessary, but Xanxus, I don’t think this is a good idea. The ninth and his closest circle know without a doubt that you aren’t Vongola by blood no matter how much you are one at heart, and the Sky ring will reject you as ultimate proof of that. You’ll have to start a bloody massacre to get that position as _decimo_ , one that will make lasting ripples, for you and everyone who supports you, and quite frankly…” Her hand moves to her abdomen as she delivers the final blow. “If at all possible, I’d like to avoid my baby being born into a period of war.”

If her arguments were slowing him down before, now she’s rendered him positively frozen. The fire dies out in his eyes, replaced by utter befuddlement. “ _Baby_?” he repeats, bewildered.

“Baby,” she affirms. “I’m pregnant. I won’t tell you by whom, or the whens or wheres or hows, but there’s an Aria Jr. growing in my womb and I would be honored if you’d be her godfather.”

Xanxus is silent for a long while, absorbing that. When he speaks again, it’s slowly, as if he’s making sure he’s got his facts and inferences right. “You’re pregnant,” he says. “With a child.”

“Yes, Xanxus, because there are totally other things I can be pregnant with,” she snorts, rolling her eyes. He shoots a glare at her but continues.

“And… it’s going to be my godchild.”

“Well, only if you accept the position, but that’s the general hope, yes.”

“And… wartime isn’t a good time for it to be born.”

“Obviously. And I’ll be sending her to be raised by her father if there’s going to be a fight.”  


“How-”

“Seer.”

“…Right.” He goes quiet again, contemplative. Aria waits patiently for his conclusion. “…I was going to attempt a coup on the ninth and my bro-” He cuts himself off, hesitant as he ever gets.

“Your brothers,” Aria prompts, because she has no such qualms about his current identity crisis. And was, past tense, that’s a good sign.

“…My brothers.” He stops again and studies Aria’s stomach. It’s an exercise in futility since she isn’t showing yet, but maybe he’s drawing something from it on a spiritual level. He comes to an apparent conclusion, and while no heavy load of intangible tenseness visibly removes itself from him, he looks less like he’s going to do something crazy and dangerous. “…Guess I’m not, anymore.”

And Aria is relieved. Her victory here, she realizes, is directly attributed to how close they’ve grown over the years, and the suddenness of her surprise, and maybe even a little bit to the alcohol Xanxus has consumed, but what she knows for certain is that her friend is not going to be frozen in Dying Will Ice in this timeline. Years won’t be stolen from him. He’ll live his life. And you know what? It’s going to be a damn good life.

Laughter, slightly hysterical, bubbles out of her now as she grabs him and pulls him into a hug. “It’s good to hear that, you great galumphing idiot.

* * *

**Omake**

“Can I name her?” Xanxus demands a few months later, eyeing Aria’s swelling belly as he pushes a stack of completed paperwork out of the way.

“What? No,” Aria says, startled. “She’s my baby, not yours.”

“But I’m going to be the godfather,” he argues. “I’ll call her Uni.”

“What kind of a name is that?” Aria demands, taken aback. She’d been expecting a proper, well-used name, like Bella, or Columbine, not, you know, something that sounded like he’d come up with it off the top of his head.

“Uni, because she’s part of the reason why the Vongola are still uni-fied.” Xanxus smirks as Aria gapes at him in disbelief.

“Get the _fuck_ out of my office.” When she finds out who taught him how to pun she’s going to skin them alive and rip out their intestines.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Petunias, in the language of flowers, means anger or resentment, and as you probably know, giglio nero translates to black lily. I hope you enjoyed this! *grins* Aria was surprisingly fun to write, though Xanxus stopping because of a baby does seem a little far fetched to me. Comments are appreciated!


End file.
